War of Westeros
by AussieNick
Summary: Three Assassins arrive in a world unknown to them. All of them were born centuries apart, and they do not know what has become of the world they knew. All seems well in this new world, until they uncover the unrest and presence of the Templars. Soon, the war between Assassins and Templars will bring more destruction upon a land ravaged by a war of five kings.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright. This is new territory for me. I've never done anything like this, so I'm not certain how things will turn out. I'd be very grateful for you guys to leave a review so that I know where things stand. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Before I start, though, I would like to state that I do NOT own the Game of Thrones/Song of Ice and Fire or Assassin's Creed franchises, nor did I create them. They are made and owned by George RR Martin/HBO and Ubisoft respectively, and only official works by them should be considered cannon.**

* * *

On a cold, windless night deep in the Wolfswood, a single leave stirred, seemingly on it's own. Then, another stirred, and then another. Within seconds, branches were ripped from trees, leaves flew high into the air, and a strong wind had formed from nothing. It spiraled in one endless loop, carrying twigs and leaves.

With a flash of golden light so bright it was blinding, the cycle of wind disappeared again. Branches and leaves fell to the ground, and all was still again.

Not to Altair though. Through the darkness, he felt a presence among his six companions. A presence he had not felt moments before. Then, as he concentrated, he felt the presence of another newcomer. There was something about these strangers that gave Altair pause: he did not know them, yet one of them seemed to know him. Even stranger still, both meant no harm to him.

They must have seen him too, as one of them called out to the group.

"So, shall we break this pointless standoff?" he said. He had the voice of a Crusader.

"You are one of King Richard's men, I take it?" Altair replied, following the sound. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the silhouettes of his men and the two strangers.

"I'd ask which one, but I know nobody of the name, I'm afraid," the man replied.

"Perhaps we would do better with some light," a third voice suggested in a heavy accent.

"Then we're lucky I have a lantern," the Englishman said. A moment later, a light filled the clearing.

The man with the lantern turned to the two men in white robes.

"Now," he said, "Does anyone want to start a fire before this thing dies?"

* * *

Before long, they had two fires going; one for Altair and the two strangers, and one for the soldiers. The three of them had pulled over logs to sit on.

"Now that we are settled in," the accented one said, "perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I am Ezio Auditore, Mentor of the Italian Assassins."

"Forgive me, Ezio Auditore," Altair replied, "But I'm afraid I have not heard of you, nor of any Brotherhood in Italy."

"I would expect not, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad," Ezio replied with a small smile.

"Forgive the interruption," the Englishman interjected loudly, "But both Altair Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore have been dead for centuries."

Altair and Ezio looked at him. Altair replied with, "And who exactly are you?"

Friend or foe, Altair did not like this man.

"My name is Arno Dorian of the French Assassins," he said, narrowing his eyes at Altair's tone, "Well, _formerly_ of the French Assassins."

"You left?" Ezio asked Arno.

"Exiled, actually," Arno replied, with the hint of a smile, as if he found the fact funny, "I did not seek permission of the French council to strike my target, so they expelled me."

At this, Altair frowned.

"You killed a target without being given permission?" he said, leaning forward.

"Several times, in fact," Arno admitted, "What is it that the Creed says? ' _Everything is permitted'"._

Ezio frowned, but said nothing. Altair, however, spoke up.

"I was like you once, Arno Dorian. I once made the mistake of striking without thought. I disregarded the Creed entirely, and stripped myself of my rank and honor. I was selfish, and I placed our Order in danger."

"I have to agree with Altair," Ezio finally spoke up, "The words of our Creed are not permission to do as you please, but simply an observation of the world.

"'Nothing is true' is to say that society and structure are simple illusions of the mind created by the people to feel secure, and that we must decide our own lives and principles.

"'Everything is permitted' is to say that only you have the power to determine your actions, and that the consequences of them are your own doing."

Arno listened, unimpressed.

"If it pleases you, then continue to put your faith in the Creed. Just know this: the Assassins and Templars aren't all that different. Both hold power through fear and force. The Assassins don't fight for the people, they fight for lawlessness."

"As much as I enjoy this discussion, I think we have more urgent matters," Ezio said, "All of us were born centuries apart, yet we stand before one another. The question is, where and when are we?"

"A question for another day," Arno replied, waving Ezio's concerns away, "Tonight, we should make camp. We can't go exploring in pitch-darkness."

"As much as it pains me to say it, Arno is not entirely wrong," Altair agreed, "Perhaps some sleep will do us all some good."

* * *

Luckily, Altair's men had camping gear with them. He had planned to oversee an assignment in Jerusalem where several Templar were believed to have been meeting, and had seen fit to have the men pack tents and blankets.

In the morning, Altair led two of his men out to hunt for game. They chose to use the rations they had packed sparingly, as they had no idea when they would see civilization again.

"Altair," William, his second-in-command asked during the hunt, "I couldn't help but hear your conversation last night. Are those two men truly Assassins?"

"I do not know," Altair admitted with a sigh, "I have no doubt in my mind that Arno Dorian serves only himself, former Assassin or not. As to the Italian, I cannot be certain. I'll confess I have had an interest in expanding our Order across Europe, and nothing has given me reason to doubt Ezio's belief in the Creed, but I wish to be sure before I trust the man with my life."

"There is something else I would like to ask, if you don't object," William said after a moment's pause.

"Speak your mind, then."

"The Piece of Eden," William said, "How could it bring us to this place?"

"Or this time," added the second man.

"As to that, we can only speculate," Altair replied, "I have spent much time with the Apple, but I would not be surprised if it held other secrets."

Suddenly, William stopped in his tracks, and motion for the others to stop too. Slowly and silently, he drew an arrow from his quiver, fixed the nock to the bowstring, pulled back, and let his arrow fly. It flew through the air and hit a squirrel dead in the eye.

"Good shot," Altair complemented as William collected the kill with a smile. Altair was competent with a bow and arrow, but found it to be an ill-suited weapon for an Assassin. Their goal was to blend in, and a bow and quiver was hard to conceal.

* * *

Ezio and Arno were awake when Altair and William returned. William had effortlessly taken two more squirrels, and Altair had managed to score one himself. It was hardly a brilliant shot, but Altair could not help but feel rather pleased with himself.

"Good of you to get a fire going," he said to Arno and Ezio, shivering, "I can't recall even being so cold."

"Or so hungry," William added.

As they cleaned and skilled the kills, Altair paid attention to Arno and Ezio's appearances for the first time. Arno couldn't be much older than 25 or so. His long hair was dark brown and tied back in a ponytail, and he was rather unshaven. He wore no robes, but rather breeches, a shirt and vest, and a blue hooded tailcoat. He looked incredibly odd to Altair, but Arno's clothing and posture made it clear enough that he was centuries apart from Altair and Ezio.

Ezio, on the other hand, was probably past 40. His hair was also brown and tied back, but it was not without a hint of grey. He seemed to have elected not to shave, as his beard covered most of his jaw. He looked tired, but Altair suspected he was more agile than he seemed.

His robes were so decorative that Altair's master Assassin outfit looked plain by comparison. Intricate patterns covered his sleeves, his hood fit him loosely, and his robes were colored white and red. He also wore a cape on his left shoulder. He looked like a nobleman. Perhaps that was the point.

Altair caught a glimpse of his bracers, and noticed that he was armed with not one, but two wrist blades, one of which seemed to be outfitted with all sorts of odd gadgets.

"Your blades," he said to Ezio as the meat cooked on the fire, "You seem to have modified them, and you have all your fingers."

"And I have you to thank for them, my friend," Ezio replied, ejecting both blades, "Perhaps you have not done so from your point of view, but I assure you that these designs are your own."

"It is odd that you know so much about what I've been intending to the Brotherhood," Altair informed him.

"I know these things because they have already happened in my time. You're contributions to our Brotherhood will not go unnoticed."

* * *

Around noon, they packed up and began their journey.

"Exactly where are we going, if you don't mind me asking?" Arno spoke up from behind them.

"South, if I'm correct," Altair called back.

"And why south, exactly?" asked Arno.

"Why any direction? You seem to have a talent for asking questions."

Arno was silent from then on. William grinned at Altair.

After hours of endless walking and little conversation, the forest turned to hills that stretched as far as the eye could see. A grey sky hung over the environment. It was oddly beautiful in a way, with a light fog hanging over the scene.

"Look down there!" William said, pointing down toward the bottom of the hill. In the distance, Altair made out a small company of men and horses. Two men held a third man clad in black by the arms, while a forth dismounted from his horse to meet them. From their vantage point, Altair could not make out the faces of those below, nor could he hear any words they may have exchanged.

What he could see, however, was that the fourth man was a large, hulking bear of a man. His cloak, made of thick fur, only added to this appearance. The two men held the man in black down on his knees before a large rock as the man approached, followed by a much small man at his side. This second man carried a sheathed sword; a sword that looked very large from Altair's view.

The man in black and the bear-like man exchanged a few words, then his captors forced him down onto the rock, with his head sticking out over the edge. The man in the fur cloak drew his sword from it's sheath, and Altair couldn't help but gasp at it's size. The man whispered something, his hands on the pommel of his sword, before grasping it in two hands, raising it high into the air, and bringing it down on the other man's neck.

As the severed head of the man in black rolled away, a man-at-arms whispered something into the executioner's ear, and then he looked right at Altair and his companions. Altair and the others remained frozen as several mounted men surrounded them, their swords drawn.

"Well," Arno said, "This is an awkward situation."

 **So there you go. As you can see, the story is starting at Season 1 and progressing through the events in Westeros. Of course, the presence of Assassins in the Seven Kingdoms will have an effect on the story. I plan to introduce characters from both GoT and AC in the coming chapters. Okay guys, please leave a review if you'd like this story to continue!**


	2. Chapter 2

"None of you move!" barked one of the mounted men. All of them were clad in leather armor and metal helms, and two men held spears flying banners; a simple white flag with a wolf.

"We mean you no harm," Ezio assured them, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed, "We're just lost."

"Lord Eddard will decide who you are," one of the men-at-arms told them, glaring.

Altair's men exchanged glances, seemingly as confused as Altair and the other Assassins were. As they whispered to one-another, the rest of the party rode up from below. The man Altair had seen earlier dismounted and stood before them. In reality, he wasn't abnormally large after all, Altair saw. Without the thick fur cloak, Altair saw he had a large but normal build.

"Who are you?" he said, eyeing them.

"Ask nicely and maybe we'll tell you," Arno retorted.

His retort earned him a punch to the stomach from a man-at-arms.

"You'd do well to hold your tongue, boy," he snapped, "You're addressing Lord Eddard of the House Stark."

"I apologize for my companion's behavior, my lord," said Ezio, stepping forward, "I am Ezio Auditore. This is Altair and Arno. We're simply lost, my lord."

"Where do you come from?" Lord Eddard questioned.

"We encountered one another in the woods, my lord," Ezio explained, "If it's my homeland you ask of, I was born in Firenze, in Italy."

Lord Eddard frowned. "Perhaps you should speak of a place I've heard of," he said, eyeing Ezio curiously.

"Pardon, my lord," Altair spoke up, "But I'm afraid I am not familiar with a House Stark. May I ask where exactly we are?"

Lord Eddard turned to Altair, sighing at his apparent lack of knowledge.

"You're in the North, one of the Seven Kingdoms. House Stark are the Wardens of the North," he said, exasperation in his tone.

Altair and Ezio exchanged a glance.

"Clearly you are not of the Seven Kingdoms," Eddard pointed out, "Or so you say. Jory, take their weapons."

Eddard's men closed in on them. Arno drew his sword, and William laid a hand on the pommel of his own.

"Altair, what are your orders?" he said, gripping the handle.

"Do not attack," Altair commanded, "Arno, put your sword away before you get us all killed!"

"If you truly pose no threat to us," Lord Eddard told them, "then you will tell us who you right-"

Something whizzed through the air, cutting off Eddard's words. An arrow landed inches from Altair's foot. Then the cry went up.

"Kill the Assassins!"

"Templar archers!" William shouted, "Men find cover!"

Everybody scrambled as arrows whizzed all around. Altair look out over a rock and saw at least three archers above them, wearing the white and red of the Knight's Templar.

"Ezio, can you climb this?" Altair said to Ezio, had was crouched next to him. Ezio peeked over the rock.

"I've dealt with far worse. Let's go."

The two of them hurled themselves up the cliff, jumping up onto rock after rock. The archers fired at them, but each landed far behind them. As the men got closer, Altair launched himself at one of the men, ejecting his wrist blade. It found it's mark in the man's neck. Next to him, Ezio took down two other with his blades.

Altair and Ezio stood up. Two more men where drawing their swords, but with a _flick_ of the wrist from Ezio, one of them fell with a knife to the throat. The second man swung his sword across at Altair, who ducked and threw himself into the man, knocking him to the floor. The blade spun from his handed and settled next to a rock.

"Stay down!" Altair ordered the archer, pinning him down on the ground, "William, bring some rope up here."

"Here.. Altair," William panted, coming to a stop next to him. Altair took the rope from him and began binding the man's wrists together.

"You will regret this, Assassin!" the archer spat, "Robert de Sable will see your head on a spike!"

"Robert de Sable will do no such thing," Altair informed him, "Your dear friend Robert is rotting in the ground somewhere."

The archer grinned at Altair. "I think not," he said, "Robert de Sable has been tracking you through these woods since yesterday."

Altair bound the archer's hands tight, then kicked him in the ribs. The archer wheezed and groaned.

"Liar," he spat.

"No lie," the archer wheezed, "Robert de Sable commands over a hundred men, and he will crush your pathetic little army. No castle or noble lords will save you from the Templars!"

"Shall I gag him?" William suggested. Altair nodded. William gagged the man, who continued to shout muffled nonsense at the group.

"You handle yourselves well," Eddard Stark noted, looking at the dead men. During the fight, the Starks had ridden up to meet them.

"Perhaps we can keep our weapons now?" Arno suggested.

"These men have a red cross on their armor," one of the men on horseback pointed out. He was more of a boy, Altair realized. No more than 20 or so. His hair was long and black, and he had a stubble.

"No house sigil that I know of," Lord Stark said quietly. He turned to the Assassins, "You three have a lot of explaining to do. You can keep your weapons, but you will accompany us back to Winterfell."

"We're walking?" Arno said unhappily.

"It seems not," Ezio told him, "These men were kind enough to leave their horses here."

* * *

They rode in silence for most of the journey. Altair and Ezio rode at the front with Lord Eddard.

"I don't understand it," Altair said to Ezio, "Robert de Sable died by my hand. He should not be here."

"Given our situation, it makes some sense," Ezio replied, "In my time, you have been dead for 200 years, yet you stand before me. And I will be dead long before Arno joins the Assassins. Tell me more about what you were doing before we met."

"I was taking a company of men to Jerusalem," explained Altair, "Our bureau leader, Malik, reported that known Templars were arriving to make plans to attack Masyaf and cripple the Order. As we had no experienced Assassin in the city, I lead a team with me to listen in on the proceedings. We were walking through the woods on day and then everything turned black, and then I felt the presence of you and Arno."

From time to time, Altair caught Eddard Stark glancing at them, and Altair knew that he was listening in on every word.

"What about you, then?" Altair continued, "Where were you."

"In Roma," Ezio replied, "I was tailing a Templar officer back to one of their hideouts when everything went black. Then I felt you and Arno near me."

"You speak of cities I have never heard of," Eddard Stark spoke up at last, "I've been trying to work you out for the whole ride, but I've made no progress."

"It's our job to keep our secrets hidden," Altair told him, "But that's probably not the cause of your confusion. Clearly, this is not the world I know. You spoke of a place called Winterfell, and say you are a lord, but I have never heard of your name."

"You doubt me?" asked Eddard.

"I have no doubt that you are a lord, Eddard Stark," Altair assured him, "But a lord of what, if I may ask?"

"Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North," Lord Stark told him, "You truly are lost, I do not doubt that. This must all be strange to you, but perhaps Maester Luwin will be able to inform you back at Winterfell."

"Good," said Ezio, "I'm anxious to get some answers.

* * *

Winterfell stood before them hours later, easily standing out among the endless hills and fields. A high stone wall surrounding grey round towers and keeps, some standing strong, some decrepit, Winterfell sat open to attack from any direction.

"Pardon, my lord," Altair said, "But Winterfell seems rather, vulnerable."

"So it may seem from a distance," Eddard Stark replied, "But Winterfell's walls have stood for 8000 years and. 1000 men could attack the castle and it would still stand."

"Still, it seems like an odd place to build a castle," Ezio pointed out.

"True," Eddard agreed, "But without the hot springs underneath the castle, we'd all starve during when winter comes."

"You sure winter isn't already here?" Arno said, shivering.

* * *

Maester Luwin was a grey-haired, balding elderly man in grey robes. When they arrived at Winterfell, Eddard had them follow Luwin to the castle's library. Bookcases covered most walls, their shelves filled with dusty books. Some didn't even have labels.

From his sleeve Luwin withdrew some folded parchment, and began unfolding it. He set it down on the table, and Altair saw that it was a map. Names Altair had never heard were dotted around the map, and Luwin was talking about invasions and wars Altair had never heard of. What was this place?

"I don't understand it," Ezio said, "In my forty years of living, how do I not know of at least some of what you told us?"

"If I had an answer, I would tell you," Luwin told him, "But I know one thing; you are no liar."

"How could you know that?" Arno asked, frowning.

"Lord Eddard has told me of the men you killed today. He's a wise man, and I trust his judgement. If he trusts you so much to let you into his home, where his family sleeps, then I will trust you also."

"We appreciate it," William said, "All of us. Today's been... chaotic."

Luwin looked at him, understanding etched in his face. "That reminds me. Lord Eddard has commanded that you'll be given food and beds. Afterwards, I wish you good fortunes."

"Thank you, Maester Luwin," Ezio said, "If it does not trouble you, perhaps my companions and I may rest?"

Luwin nodded. "As you wish. The stewards outside will see you and your men to our quarters."

* * *

The group settled into their quarters and rested. The next day, they were woken by a servant who told them that Lord Eddard requested their presence. Altair and Ezio met with Lord Eddard in the courtyard. From atop a balcony, they watched Eddard's eldest sons, Robb and Jon, teach their younger brother, Bran, to use a bow.

"I hear Maester Luwin vouches for you," Eddard said, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"From our conversation last night, it seems so," Altair agreed.

"I only met you yesterday, and I can tell you are dangerous men, but not mad or evil. I will trust you with my family's home, as long as you keep your men under control."

"You'll have no trouble from my men, Lord Stark," Altair assured him," They're well disciplined."

Eddard gave Altair a ghost of a smile.

"Good. We can't afford any trouble in the coming days. This castle is crowded as it is."

"Are you expecting guests, my lord?" inquired Ezio.

"I am," Eddard replied, "King Robert rides south as we speak, along with his wife, children and much of the royal court. He will likely arrive within the month. I've sent a rider ahead to inform him of your arrival. I owe him prior knowledge, at the very least."

"You know the king well, then."

Altair said it as a statement, not a question. Lord Stark nodded.

"If my sister hadn't died, we'd be bound by blood. I've known Robert most of my life, but I haven't see him in years. I hope he's still the man I knew when he won the Iron Throne."

"Luwin told us," Altair said to him, "All of it. The rebellion, the end of the Targaryens, your sister... I just want to say I'm sorry. We both know what it's like to lost family."

'Do you now?" Lord Eddard asked coldly.

"We do," Altair said, "When I was a boy in training, the Saracens planned to besiege Masyaf. My father, a skilled Assassin, was sent to send a message to their leader, Saladin. He left a feather, the symbol of our presence, and a dagger in the man's tent, but he had to kill a nobleman escape. Saladin learnt his name from a spy of ours he had captured, and threatened to take his head if not my father's.

"My father violated our creed in killing an innocent. He was pardoned, but he offered to give his head to Saladin to save his sworn brother. When the spy was returned to us, he stopped me from seeing my father's head taken."

Altair let the story sink in. Eddard was taken aback by the story, and listened in silence to Ezio's.

"My father kept his true identity a secret to his family for many years. He served alongside his brother Mario as an Assassin. When I was seventeen, the Templars came and raided our home. They took my father and brothers, called them traitors, and hanged them. I couldn't stop them. I took my mother and sister to my uncle, and he helped keep them safe while I trained to become what I am today."

Lord Eddard was silent for a moment. His face showed no emotion, but his eyes gave him away. Altair thought he may shed a tear or two, and questioned the wisdom of his choice to share the story. But the lord composed himself quickly, and simply said, "I'm sorry, truly."

They did not speak for a time, but watched the activity below in silence.

"Perhaps we should ride for the capital," Altair suggested to Ezio, "We know that the Templars are here in Westeros, and we should move quickly to establish a Brotherhood here."

"Agreed," replied Ezio, "But how so? To do so we'll need men, gold and a lot of support."

"Perhaps I can vouch for your cause when King Robert arrives," Eddard offered, "I'll send out some men to capture one of these Templars and bring him before Robert. Perhaps we can persuade him to support your cause."

"Many thanks my lord," said Ezio, bowing, "We will not forget this kindness."

* * *

On their return to Winterfell, the Stark party had found a dead wolf with six pups nestled beside her. Eddard had explained that the direwolf was the sigil of House Stark, and while he had planned to kill the pubs out of mercy, his bastard son, Jon, had talked him out of it.

"They're meant to have them," he had said.

Over the weeks, the wolfs had grown rapidly, alarming Altair and his men. By the time King Robert was expected to arrive, they had doubled in size in a mere week.

Altair and Ezio spent most of their time in the courtyard, watching the men train with the Stark men-at-arms. Jon and Robb would frequently engage in some friendly sparring while the bystanders would place small bets. Altair would have taken part if he mad any money.

On one of these days, Arno came out to watch the fighting. He looked unimpressed.

"I've seen Assassin novices do better," he remarked.

Altair was starting to seriously dislike Arno, and he doubted that he truly was an Assassin. Arno had seemed snobbish from the night the made camp, and his behavior at Winterfell didn't help his image.

"Then face me in a fair fight," Robb shot back, then added, "Or is that sword just a decoration?"

The men laughed, Altair and Ezio with them. Arno's smirk was gone in an instant. he turned to Altair instead.

"How about you, Altair?" he said loudly, "Prove that you're the Master Assassin you say you are."

Altair paused for the briefest of moments. He still doubted Arno, and he had never seen him fight. It was unlikely, but if Arno was in fact a Templar, then that put him in unnecessary danger. He remembered his overconfidence under Solomon's Temple.

But this was different. If Arno did pose a threat, Ezio would know. He smiled, and said, "That would be bad... for you."

Arno smirked. "Then you accept? Then draw your sword."

Jon and Robb moved out of the way while Altair lept over the fence and into the square space used for training. Both men stood before one another and drew their swords. Arno's sword remined him somewhat of a Syrian sword, but with a bulkier crossguard, although it did have the same gold color. Altair's weapon was plain by comparison; a simple longsword with a crossguard and leather wrapped around the hilt.

Arno jabbed at him, but Altair stepped out of the way easily.

"What fool gave you a sword?" he joked before delivering a side slash which knocked Arno backwards. Arno recovered and slashed sideways at Altair, who ducked and felt the sword pass over him. Arno's momentum span him away from Altair, who delivered a kick that put Arno on his back.

"Did they even train you to use that thing?" Ezio joked from the sidelines. Arno scrambled to his feet and swung at Altair with surprising strength, and before he knew it, his longsword had flown out of his hand.

"Do you yield?" Arno said, a cocky smile on his face, his sword inches from Altair's neck.

Altair flicked his wrist and his hidden blade ejected. In a flash, he had knocked Arno's blade out of his hand with a single jab.

"No," Altair said simply, struggling not to grin.

That's when he saw the man come out of the crowd and leap over the fence, rushing at Altair with a dagger raised. Altair instinctively brought his wrist up. The dagger bounced harmlessly off his bracer. Before the man could recover, Altair had punched him in the gut, and he fell to his knees. Meanwhile, Ezio had climbed into the training ring and, with Arno's help, had dragged the man to his feet with his arms pinned.

"Who sent you?" Altair demanded.

"Fuck you, Assassin!" the man spat. He wore the uniform of a Stark guard, but Altair had never seen him in the castle before. Altair punched him in the face.

"You should watch your tongue if you wish to keep it," Altair warned. He was lying, of course; Assassins rarely uses torture to extract punishment, and Altair needed this guy alive and talking.

"What is going on down here?"

Eddard Stark came running down, his wife, Catelyn Stark, following him.

"Is this one of your men?" Altair questioned, jerking a thumb at the captive.

Eddard looked at the man, frowning.

"He wears Stark armor, but I don't recognize him," he said, then he turned to the crowd, "Does anyone know this man?"

There was dead silence. Arno began to search the man.

"Altair, look at this," he said, holding his hand out. There was something gold in it. Altair took the object. It was a gold chain with a pendant in the shape of a cross. But there was something else to it...

Altair's head swam and he stumbled, barely staying on his feet.

"Altair, what is it?" said Ezio.

The chain slipped through his fingers as Altair fell to the dirt and blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

William and Ezio came in when Altair started groaning in pain. When he first came to, Altair didn't register the stone room he was in, just the pain. It was as if someone had busted his skull open with... something metal. He tried to sit up, but collapsed back onto the bed and waited for his head to stop throbbing.

"The chain..." he said weakly.

"Locked away," Ezio told him, "How do you feel?"

"Like my is about to blow up," he replied, "What about the imposter?"

"The Starks have him imprisoned," said William, "You can interrogate him when you feel up to it."

"Good work. How long has it been?" Altair asked.

"A week," replied Ezio, "Lord Stark's scouts say that King Robert will arrive any day now."

Altair heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and Maester Luwin walked into his vision, setting a wooden tray down on the table next to his bed.

"Drink this," he said, holding a tiny cup out to Altair, "It will help with the pain."

"What is it?" he asked, "And how did you know I was in pain?"

"The milk of the poppy," replied Luwin, "And you woke up a few days ago, screaming. You fell unconscious before I could give you anything."

Altair propped himself up on one elbow, moving as slowly and little as he could, and let Luwin pour the milky substance down his throat. After swallowing, he lay back down. Altair felt blissfully free as most of the pain left him. The throbbing in his head was almost unnoticeable now.

Altair sat up easily now. "How long will this last?"

"At the very least, a few hours," Luwin replied, "I can give you a tiny amount later if you need, but you shouldn't have too much. Lyman Lannister got himself addicted, the fool. Now he can't stop shaking, from what I've heard."

Altair had no idea who Lyman Lannister was, but he thanked Luwin all the same. William gave him his sword back and he decided to take a walk outside; maybe some fresh air would do him some good.

One of the direwolves was sitting at the base of a tower, looking around like a sentry. When Altair approached, the wolf ignored him.

"God's, do they grow fast," a voice said from behind him. Altair turned around. Lady Caitlyn Stark, followed by Luwin, approached them.

"They certainly do, Lady Stark," ALtair agreed, bowing slightly. He heard a noise behind him and turned around.

"Isn't that your son up there?" he asked, looking at the young boy making his way down the tower wall.

"Brandon!" Lady Stark said sharply.

Brandon Stark looked over at them. "I saw the king!" he said excitedly as he climbed down, "He's got hundreds of people!"

"How many times have I told you, no climbing!" Lady Stark said, exasperated.

Bran jumped the short way to the ground, landing on his feet with a thud.

"I want you to promise me," Lady Stark scolded, "No more climbing."

Bran looked at his feet for a brief moment before replying, "I promise."

Lady Stark looked at her son and said, "Do you know what? You always look at your feet when you lie."

Bran couldn't help but grin.

"Run and find your father," Lady Stark said, "Tell him the king is close."

"Would I be correct in guessing this is a common occurrence?" Altair asked, while the entire castle prepared for the King's arrival.

"Sadly yes," Catelyn admitted, walking slowly with Altair, "He's skilled in it, but I fear for his life whenever he does it."

"Understandable," said Altair, "And a sign of a good mother. But I would rest easy; I've known Master Assassins who would struggle with such a climb."

Catelyn Stark was silent.

"I understand that there is much you don't know of us yet," Altair said, "But do not worry. I intend to make everything clear when we speak with the king.

"Much of it will seem strange to you all, even unbelievable at times, but I can show you proof."

"'You'?" Catelyn replied, "You're hiding something from your own allies?"

"I have to be cautious," Altair told her, "They both know of me, and one of them knows of the other. We all claim to be born centuries apart, but we stand before one another. The only men I can truly trust are William and my guard."

* * *

Altair, Ezio and Arno stood next to Eddard, Catelyn, and their children as they waited for the travelling party to arrive. As the men on horse rode through the gate, the Northmen and Assassins his head bowed, Altair could not tell how many people there were. He heard footsteps approaching, and then felt the people round him rise up, and he rose with them. Looked in Eddard's direction, he saw standing before him one of the largest men he had ever seen; Altair wondered if he could get down from his horse alone. Unsmiling, with a thick dark grey beard, he looked at Eddard, who said, "Your Grace."

Altair had to hide disbelief; he'd seen fat kings before, but not like this. He secretly hoped King Robert was more open to wild claims than he looked.

Robert looked Eddard up and down and said, "You got fat."

Eddard didn't respond with words, but with a small gesture towards King Robert's protruding belly. The awkward silence was broken by Robert and Ned laughing and embracing as friends. Robert greeted the rest of Ned's family, while a blonde-haired woman dressed in extravagant clothing stepped forward.

"My queen," Eddard and Catelyn said, bowing. Robert rounded on the Assassins.

"You must be the men I was told about," he said, eyeing Altair's extremely conspicuous robes.

"Indeed we are, your Grace," Altair said with a small bow, "I am Altair, your Grace."

"I've been told you have business," said Robert, frowning, "Is it urgent?"

"Yes, but it can wait a day or two, your Grace," Altair replied. In truth, he wanted Robert's answer by the end of the day, but he thought it best not to push his luck.

"Good, then," said Robert, before turning back to Ned, "Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for months, my love," the Queen said to Robert, "Surely the dead can wait."

Robert ignored her, and called for Ned to follow him, leaving the awkward silence behind.

* * *

The newcomers were settled in, and a servant called for Altair as the sun began to set.

"What is it?" he asked the man.

"Lord Eddard has called a meeting in the banquet hall. He says the King will be attending, as well as Arno and Ezio," explained the servant.

"One moment," Altair said, standing up from his bed. He had to bring it with him. The Northerners were still in doubt, and Altair didn't think Robert would be any easier to convince. It was in a relatively small box, so he declined the servant's offer to carry it.

Lead the way," he said. The servant led him through countless corridors until coming to the banquet hall, where a feast was to be held later that night.

"Through there, please," the servant said, point to a wooden door at the far end of the hall. Altair entered, and found himself in a room empty apart from a round table, wooden chairs, Lord and Lady Start, King Robert and Queen Cersei, Maester Luwin, and Ezio and Arno.

"Come sit," Robert said, indicating the empty seat, "Best we get this business over with."

Altair sat beside Ezio, placing the box on his lap. "Your Grace, has Lord Stark told you who we are?"

"He has," Robert admitted, nodding slightly, "Some of it, at least. Who are you, and where did you come from?"

"It's a very complicated story, your Grace," Altair said, "Much of this will seem impossible at first, but I have something that will convince you."

Arno frowned, and said, "I've heard nothing of this."

"Neither have I," added Ezio, "Altair, I don't doubt your loyalty to the Assassins, but I have to ask why you kept this from us."

"I had to be sure of your loyalty, Ezio," replied Altair, "When you see what I've brought with me, you'll understand."

He turned to Lord Stark, gesturing to the windows. "I need them closed."

Eddard nodded, and Arno drew the curtains.

"I have to ask, before you see this, that none of you reveal the nature of this meeting."

Nobody raised a complaint, and Altair stood up, placing the chest on the table. He drew a small gold key from his robes, slid it into the keyhole, and turned it. He drew a deep breath; he had no idea how the others would react when they saw it, but he couldn't stop now. He lifted the lid, and squinted against the golden light that must have painted him. With his free hand, he turned the box to the rest of the room.

"What in seven hells?!" Robert exclaimed.

Gods, what is that?" Eddard said, an arm over his eyes.

Altair felt around the box lid and grasped the Apple, picking it up and holding it in one hand. The light dimmed, and everyone opened their eyes and stared at the glowing ball in Altair's hand.

"Is that a-?"Arno began.

"Piece of Eden," Altair finished for him, before turning to the others, "The men we encountered in the hills were Templars, our enemies. For centuries, we have thought over these scraps of technology left by a race that came before."

"I don't understand," said Robert. Cersei simply sat in her seat, gaping.

"This Apple of Eden is but one of many Pieces scattered throughout our worlds. They have the power to corrupt even the most strong-willed men; even I have struggled to keep my free will in the past."

He placed the Apple back in the box, and shut the lid. The others blinked, seemingly in a daze.

"Your Grace," Altair said, drawing Robert's attention, "I do not know how we have come to be in this position, but I do know this; the Templar Order would see every last man, woman, and child in Westeros robbed of their free will, including all of us.

"They are ruthless killers, and will stop at nothing until every last enemy of theirs is dead. That is why we need your help, your Grace. The Templar are here, and it is only a matter of time before their influence spreads across the Seven Kingdoms."

Robert stared at the closed box containing the Apple. Altair knew he was struggling to comprehend it all, but he had gotten through to him. But he dared not savor the moment. Instead he held his breath until he thought he would begin gasping for air.

"Robert?" Eddard asked, staring at Robert blankly.

Robert looked up at Altair, his eyes glazed over slightly. He placed a hand on the table to steady himself, then pulled himself out of the seat. Then he found his composure.

"We ride for King's Landing in a few days," he said, "Ride with us, and we'll talk."

Altair finally allowed himself to smile. "You honor us all, your Grace."


	4. Chapter 4

On the other side of the world, in the middle of the sweltering midday heat, another one arrived. With no trees around, his arrival only bent the grass away, kicking up loose dirt. They both fell to the ground, panting, and the tall grass came back up to swallow them. One of them, a young man with blonde hair and a beard, stood up, holding in his hand a glowing ball.

"Adewale," Edward said, extending a hand to his dark-skinned friend. Adewale took it in his, and stood up.

"Are you alright, Captain?' he asked, looking around.

"Fine," Kenway said, examining their surroundings. The grass almost rose up to their chests, and Edward stood on his toes to get a better view. Grass stood as far as the eye could see, like a great green ocean.

"There's a mountain in the distance," Edward said, point in the distance.

"Can we walk that far?" Adewale asked him, "We have no water."

Hearing this, Edward opened a pouch at his hip and pulled out two small water canteens.

"Make it last," he said, handing Adewale one of them and tucking the Apple into his pouch.

* * *

Back in Westeros, Altair woke up sweating.

It was the strangest dream he had ever had, if it was actually a dream. It was so vivid, so real-looking. He concentrated and tried to remember before it escaped him.

He had been walking through the woods along a dirt trail. It all seemed familiar. He had been here before. He knew it. Then, dead ahead, he saw the gates of Masyaf. He rushed inside, and the gates closed behind him.

The village was cold and empty. The sky was grey and the wind blew around him. A man clad in robes approached, and Altair had a brief moment of terror as he remembered the day he faced Al Mualim.

 _No, please,_ he thought, _Not this. Not again. Please no._

But to his relief, it was a friendly face he saw.

"Malik!"

"Altair?" Malik said, a look of astonishment upon his face. He reached out with his remaining hand, but it passed through Altair as if he were a ghost.

"I-I don't understand," Altair stammered.

"Altair, where did you go?" Malik asked, "You left for Jeursalem, but you never arrived."

"Malik, it's the Apple," Altair told him, "I'm somewhere else, at least for now. I've met others. Two more Assassins. It's like another world that has been unknown to us."

Malik frowned. "The Apple did this?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Altair, you need to destroy that thing," Malik insisted, "We need to deprive the Templar of their power source."

"It's too late for that," replied Altair, "The Templars have already arrived here. We have to assume that they have another Piece of Eden."

"Altair, things are different here," Malik told him, "People are disappearing. Templar presence has been declining all across the Holy Land. Assassin guards are going missing here too."

This was news to Altair. "What? What happened to them?"

"I don't know," Malik said, "But it's possible that they're in this new world of yours. Find them, Altair. Rebuild our Brotherhood before it's too late."

Altair had blacked out and woken up in his bed at Winterfell, trying to figure out if any of what he saw was real. If it was, he had to move quickly. He had to find the other Assassins and build a Brotherhood in Westeros before the Templar gained footing.

He dressed quickly and rushed outside.

"Where are King Robert and Lord Stark?" he said to a Stark guard.

"Right here," said Eddard Stark from behind him, followed by King Robert, "Is there a problem?"

"There are other Assassins here," he said quickly, "Scattered all over Westeros. We need to gather them before the Templars gain more power here."

"What?" Robert said, "How can you be sure?"

"I can't be," Altair said, "It was a vision, or maybe a dream. But it was real. I was back in my world, and a fellow Assassin told me that people were disappearing from the Holy Land."

"Slow down," Ned insisted, "Where are the rest of the Assassins?"

"Lord Stark!" A guard shouted, running up to them, "Altair, our scouts have reported men in Assassin robes have been sighted near Ironrath!"

King Robert looked at Altair. "It seems that we've found your Assassins."

"How many?" Altair demanded of the guard, "Is there a count?"

"Around 50 or so."

"What's happening?" came a familiar voice. Ezio quickly joined the conversation, followed by Arno and William.

"Pack your belongings," Altair told them, "Lord Stark, we'll need horses, camping gear, and the quickest route to Ironrath."

"Where?" Arno said blankly.

"It's the domain of House Forrester," Ned explained, "They're one of our bannermen. I'll have your gear prepared."

He rushed off.

"Altair, you need to stay here," Arno told him.

"Why?" Altair said in confusion, both by the statement and the fact that it came from Arno of all people.

"King Robert rides for the capital in a matter of days," explained Arno, "Your men will ride with him, and they will need you with them."

"I agree with Arno," William added, "I can go to Ironrath with Ezio and verify if these men are true Assassins. If they're from Masyaf, they might trust me."

"Fine," Altair said, "Be ready to leave _today._ "

* * *

Five horses waited in the courtyard for Ezio, William, a guide and two Stark scouts. The five men, weighed down by provisions, climbed their mounts.

"The scouts will ride ahead when you approach Ironrath," Ned told them before they left, "Lord Gregor will know to greet you."

"Lord Gregor?" said a voice. Altair turned around. For a moment, Altair saw nobody, until the voice said in an exasperated tone, "Down here!"

Altair looked at the ground. The Queen's brother, the dwarf Tyrion Lannister had arrived. Altair had only seen him once before, at the King's feast. When Altair inquired to a Lannister guard regarding his absence, the guard said with a tired wave of his hand, "In a brothel no doubt."

"I can't say we've had the pleasure of meeting, Altair."

"I'm afraid not, Lord Tyrion," Altair said, bowing. Tryion gave a slight laugh.

"Lord of what, exactly? Regardless, are you meeting Lord Gregor Forrester?"

Altair shook his head and point to Ezio and the others.

"Ah, I see," Tyrion said, nodding, "I met him once. He seemed like quite a good man. But where are my manners? I wish you safe travels."

"On you as well," Ezio said, bowing his head, "Perhaps we will see each other again in King's Landing?"

"I look forward to it."

Ezio turned to Altair. "This is goodbye for now, Altair."

"Only for now," replied Altair, "Safety and peace, Ezio."

"On you as well, brother."

"The same goes for the rest of you," Altair said, turning to the rest of them, "Be safe out there."

"Indeed."

Altair turned, ready to groan and the next new arrival, but was relieved to see a familiar face. Phillip, one of his team of guards from Masyaf, was approaching. He was a young man with brown hair, a thin face, and a very strange accent that Altair had never heard before. he also tended to talk in an awkward manner. Nonetheless, he was a skilled fighter, once managing to save Altair from a brutal beating at the hands of nine thugs.

"Stay safe William," he said, "Bring our brothers back, and godspeed."

There it was, Altair noted. Another strange phrase. It wasn't the first one either. When interrogating a Templar in Damascus, he once said, "Do I look stupid to you?!"

It was a very odd way to talk. He wasn't a spy though, Altair knew that for certain. But there was something he was hiding.

Phillip stepped away, and watched as the group of five rode out through the gate.

* * *

3 days of riding later, Ezio and William sat at a fire.

The scouts had ridden ahead to Ironrath, leaving the three of them alone. The guide, Kevan, had gone to relieve himself, leaving Ezio and William to sit in silence. They camped by the side of the dirt road, surrounded by forest.

"Were you born into the Brotherhood?" William finally asked after a long, uncomfortable silence. Ezio wasn't complaining.

"Not exactly," Ezio said with a sad smile, "My family has a long history with the Assassins. My father and uncle were born into the Order, without the knowledge of my family. When I was seventeen, my father and brothers were brought before the people of Firenze, and hanged for treason.

"The man father had entrusted those life-saving documents to, he betrayed him. Sold out his best friend. I wanted nothing more than to kill the man, and I did so. But after reading a personal letter of his, I wished it hadn't come to that.

"I took my mother and sister to my uncle's villa in the countryside, where he trained me, introduced me to the Brotherhood. When he died, I rebuilt the Order in Roma."

Ezio stared into the fire, amazed at how he had summed it all up in a few sentences. Reflecting on his life, he felt tired, for the first time in a while. Perhaps the constant battle had pushed fatigue away from him, but it had come back in full force since he had arrived in Westeros. He also felt a sense of fear at the idea that this was to be his life. Meeting Arno meant that the Assassins and Templars would fight on centuries after his passing, and he hoped that he would eventually return to a life of peace.

 _Don't get your hopes up,_ he told himself.

"What about you?" he asked William, nodding at his blade arm, which lacked a finger, "Were you born into the Order?"

William nodded. "My mother was a healer and my father was a Master Assassin. Somehow, they made it through it all and died peacefully."

"A blessing in these times," said Ezio.

"A blessing in any time."

* * *

The day after the next, they arrived at Ironrath at what Ezio judged to be midday. Compared to the grey stone of Winterfell, Ironrath was a refreshing change. Built from stone and some kind of strong wood, Ironrath had a beauty to it that Winterfell lacked. Surrounded by tall trees standing taller than any tree Ezio had seen before, the fortress felt far more peaceful than anywhere else in Westeros, and Ezio savored it wile it lasted.

The gate opened for them as they rode up. They dismounted at the stables, where a bearded man waited.

"You must be the men from Winterfell," he said as they climbed down. He had the accent of a Northerner, and light brown hair and a thick beard.

"Indeed, _signore,"_ Ezio replied, bowing, "I am Ezio Auditore."

"Duncan," the man replied, "I'm the castellan of Ironrath. Lord Forrester would greet you himself, but a crisis has sprung up with a rival house."

"Is there any way we can assist?" Ezio suggested, wanting to make a good impression on the locals. Duncan waved a hand.

"The offer is appreciated, but I'm sure Lord Gregor has everything under control. Onto business, we sighted men and women camping in the ironwood grove about two weeks ago. Our total count as of yesterday is 53, but that's only a guess. They're still out there."

"Have you tried to make contact?" William asked. Duncan shook his head.

"Not yet. We thought it would be best for you to make an introduction."

"Thank you," said Ezio, "Lead the way."

Duncan lead them around the fortress and into the forest, where the trees stood taller than the towers Ezio used to leap off of.

"They're camping over this hill," Duncan said, pointing to the hill ahead of them. Ezio and William climbed up the hill and observed the small valley below.

There was a crudely-made camp occupying the space. Three dark spots where campfires probably stood the night before, tents made from tree branches and white cloth, and men, women and children all going about their business, most clad in white robes with a red sash.

"So are these your people?" Duncan asked, standing next to them on the hill.

"They appear to be," commented William, scanning the crowd, "Those are almost certainly Assassin robes, and I think some of them are armed."

"I'll go down there," said Ezio, "Follow my lead."

They descended down the other side of the hill. An 'Assassin' noticed him, and called the crowd to a stop.

"Wait!" Ezio called out, as the men drew their swords, "I'm a friend. My name is Ezio Auditore."

"Are you an Assassin?" one of the men called.

"Yes!" Ezio said back.

"We both are!" added William.

The man who had called out stepped forward, sheathed his sword, and said, "Then safety and peace, brothers."

* * *

Back at Winterfell, there was nothing to be happy about. Brandon Stark, the youngest of the Stark children, had fallen from a tower the previous day. It was a mere stroke of luck that Arno happened to be walking by the tower, and broke the boys fall. Now, all anyone could do was wait for them both to wake up.

Altair walking into the banquet hall the morning after the accident, where the Lannisters were eating breakfast. They would ride for King's Landing today, and Altair wanted to eat as much as possible before they left. He hoped that Arno would wake up before they left. Altair had a lot of questions for him.

"Am I troubling anyone?" he asked, to nobody in particular.

"Not at all," said Ser Jaime Lannister, who shook his head, "Have a seat."

Altair sat down and helped himself to some bacon. He struggled to force it down.

"How is your friend?" Queen Cersei asked.

"Still alive, your Grace," he said quietly, "I'm confident they'll both make it."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up," said Jaime sadly, "I hear neither of them landed well."

"I cannot give up on Arno," Altair told him, "We need every trained Assassin we can get in these times."

The door opened behind them. Tyrion walked up to the table and took the space between Altair and Jaime.

"Is Bran going to die?" Princess Myrcella asked as he sat down.

"Apparently not," Tyrion said with a hint of pleasant surprise in his voice. Turning to Altair, he added, "Arno is awake."

Jaime shrugged and grinned. "I stand corrected."

"How are they?" Altair asked, keeping a smile off his face.

"Luwin says Arno should be able to ride with you today," Tyrion told him, "As for the Stark boy, we don't know yet. It's likely he'll be a cripple though. The way he landed..."

Cersei and Jaime exchanged a glance. Altair took note, but said nothing. Prying into Lannister affairs wouldn't help them.

"'Ride with _you_ today'," Altair mused, "Are you not coming with us?"

"My dear brother has decided to travel north," Jaime informed him, "He'll be riding with Ned Stark's bastard and uncle to the Wall."

Altair had heard the Wall being mentioned before. Luwin simply called it 'the greatest structure ever built by man'. He had also heard of the Night's Watch, a group of men who lived and died defending the Wall.

"Then safe travels to you," Altair said.

"Thank you," Tyrion replied, "It's not impossible that we'll cross paths with Ezio and William on the way there."

* * *

Altair rushed up to see Arno right after breakfast. Phillip was waiting for him.

"He's been asking-" he began, but Altair walked straight past him and pushed the door open.

"Apparently knocking was a foreign concept in 1191," Arno joked, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Are you alright?" Altair asked rather sharply.

Too sharply, perhaps, for Arno's smile faded a little.

"I'm fine," he said, sitting up properly now, "Maester Luwin says I'll be able to ride for King's Landing with the rest of you."

"The journey has been delayed," said a voice from behind them. Altair turned. Eddard Stark, followed by Lady Catelyn and Robb Stark, entered the room.

"Lord Stark," Altair said, bowing slightly, "Lady Stark. I'm sorry to hear about Brandon. How is he?"

"He's well," Catelyn said, giving a tired smile, "Maester Luwin says he will live."

"This family owes you a great debt," Ned told Arno, "Without you, our son might not be alive."

"Thank you, my lord," Arno said, "But it was a matter of luck. I didn't even know what, or who, had hit me until I woke up today."

"Regardless," Catelyn said, "Our son is alive thanks to you. You'll always find yourself welcome here. All of you."

"So you don't remember anything that happened yesterday?" Robb asked Arno, who rubbed his forehead.

"I remember seeing a glow at the base of the tower," he said, "I saw it from the battlements. I went down to investigate, and it just vanished. Then I got knocked to the ground and I lost consciousness."

"A glow?" Altair said, "What do you mean?"

"It was like sunlight," Arno said, more to himself than to the others, "It wasn't solid, it was like something was projecting it. Like it had a power source."

Both of them seemed to be thinking the same thing. And Altair wished they had both not said it aloud.

"Piece of Eden," they both murmured.

"How is that possible?" Eddard said, "I thought you had the only one here."

"As far as we knew," replied Arno, "We couldn't possibly know if any Pieces were left here. For all we know, there could be Pieces of Eden of Eden buried below us."

"Then we have to move quickly," Altair said, "Get to King's Landing and establish a Brotherhood. We need to start tracking down any possible Pieces of Eden before Robert de Sable gains a foothold here."

"Then we ride today," Arno said, standing up.


	5. Chapter 5

The Kingsroad was easily the coldest journey Altair had ever experienced. Travelling for most of the day, a long line moving along the endless dirt road, they would set up camp in the afternoon, either at taverns or the strongholds of minor lords. The forest would turn to swampland, and then to forest again. With nothing to do, Altair took notice of Ned Stark's daughters, and was amazed that they were actually sisters. Sansa, the eldest, was the more mature one, acting in a far more ladylike manner. Nothing surprising there, Altair thought. Then there was Arya, who couldn't be more different. She was the louder one, first of all. Altair had once heard her complaining to Sansa about having to ride with the Queen and her children and not being able to take her direwolf, Nymeria, with her. And on one day, while they had made camp, Altair had seen her walking into the forest and picking up a long branch.

When he pointed this out to Arno, Arno simply said, "Children are children. It's probably nothing."

But Arno had suspicions as well. Arya was different in every way from Sansa, and he doubted it actually was a case of children being children. So when he saw her sneaking off into the forest again, the direwolf at her feet, he followed her. He was amused that he could walk behind her so casually without her knowing. The same could not be said for the direwolf, however. The animal stopped and turned to look at him, then growled. Arya whirled around.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Walking," Arno replied calmly, "And you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You're following me."

"Am I?" Arno replied.

"Yes you are," Arya told him, "What do you want?"

"I see manners aren't your strong suit," said Arno, leaning against a tree, "Alright then, since you asked nicely. I'm curious."

"About what?"

"About why you don't want to be followed."

"Why?"

"Because that's how we are trained."

"What do you mean 'we'?"

"My companions and I," Arno told her, "Listen, if your father and mother haven't told you, then neither will I. They've done more for us than we can ever repay, and I am not so low that I would betray them by telling you more than you should know."

She gave him a glare. She knew there wasn't any more point arguing.

"Will you tell anyone?" she finally asked, a note of fear in her tone.

"If it's nothing that hurts anyone, then no. Lead the way."

Arno didn't know how to feel when they arrived at the clearing by the riverbed. He thought about telling Lord Stark, but when he saw Arya and the boy (Mycah, his name was), he decided that this was one thing Eddard Stark wouldn't have to bother himself with. He couldn't help but smile, remembering how he used to do the same kind of things with Elise.

And for a brief time, Arno saw some good in this strange world that held many dark secrets. Seeing children just being children gave him hope for the human race, and reminded him of why they had to stop the Templars at any cost.

But damn it, the moment could not last. Of course Joffery and Sansa had to show up. _Well, just Joffery_ , Arno thought. He had disliked the King's eldest son the moment he had seen his entitled, whiny little face at Winterfell. He bore no resemblance to King Robert, and had none of the beauty or courtesy of his mother. In fact, he was the kind of boy who would benefit from a kick up the rear.

"Arya!" Sansa yelled out. Arya turned around at the sound of the noise, and Mycah missed her stick and struck her wrist by accident.

"Ow!" Arya said, "What are you doing here? Go away!"

"Your sister?" Joffery asked Sansa, before turning to Mycah, "And who are you, boy?"

Arno tensed. This wasn't going to end well.

Mycah dropped the stick and stuttered, "Mycah, m'lord."

"He's the butcher's boy," said Sansa, with a dark look.

"He's my friend!" Arya yelled.

"The butcher's boy who wants to be a knight," murmured Joffery, "Pick up your sword, butcher's boy. Let's see how good you are."

"She asked me to, m'lord," Mycah told him quickly, "She asked me to."

"I'm your _prince,"_ said Joffery darkly, "Not your lord. Pick up your sword."

"It's not a sword, my prince," protested Mycah, "It's just a stick."

"And you're not a knight," Joffery told him, raising his sword to to boy's cheek, "Only a butcher's boy."

"That was my lady's sister you were hitting, do you know that?"

"Stop it!" Arya told Joffery.

"Arya, stay out of this!" Sansa warned. Arno was astonished. How could she be defending this bully?

"I won't hurt him," Joffery said with a sickening sneer, "Much."

"Stop!" Arno said, unable to contain himself more. Joffery rounded on him.

"I see you've got a proper sword," he said, as if forgetting about the butcher's boy entirely, "Do you want to fight, instead?"

"I only fight people who can actually fight," Arno said coolly. Joffery looked as if he had just been slapped.

"You should not have done that," he said, barely a whisper.

"No, don't!" Sansa shouted at them, " My prince, let them be stupid. We should go."

Joffery looked from Arno to Sansa, as if unsure of what to do. Arno simply gave him a blank look. Finally, he sheathed his sword.

"You're lucky my lady was here to stop me," he told Arno, "Next time, you may not be so lucky."

"Oh, I'm terrified," Arno said, turning his wrist so that Joffery could see his hidden blade glinting in the sunlight. He was delighted to see a flicker of terror in the prince's eyes.

"You're right, Sansa. They're not worth the time," he finally said. They both left. Mycah let out a sigh of relief.

"Entitled prick," Arno muttered darkly as they left.

"What does she see in him," said Arya, looking disgusted.

"Believe me," Arno told her, "If that spineless coward didn't have a birthright to the Iron Throne, then she'd want nothing to do with him."

* * *

Luckily, it seemed that Joffery had either forgotten the incident by the river or just not cared, because Arno heard nothing of the incident afterwards. Arya was less cold toward Arno later on, and as for Joffery... Well, Joffery was Joffery.

They continued to make camp every day. Sometimes they would stop by an inn or small castle, or they would just pitch tents in an open area and get a fire going. The weather had gotten noticeable warmer, and Arno found himself leave his coat in his tent and rolling his shirt sleeves up. He and Altair still drew curious looks from those around them, and he didn't see that changing any time soon.

Altair, meanwhile, spent his time working on his Codex. He began documenting his experience so far, his thoughts dwelling on Malik and Mysaf, and on Robert de Sable. Now that he thought about it, Altair realized that de Sable being alive was a good thing for them. It wasn't until the traitor Al Mualim's death that the Templar Order went underground, and de Sable would expose himself to the wiser Assassins. With the manpower, they could win this. But it all depended on finding any pieces of Eden before the Templars could.

"Altair?" a voice said outside his tent. It was the Queen's brother, Ser Jaime, "His Grace requests to see you."

"Now?" Altair said, feeling a mixture of annoyance and apprehension. Had he done something wrong?

"That would be ideal," came King Robert's gruff voice from outside, "Come on, we have things to discuss."

It turned out that Altair wasn't in trouble after all. In fact, he'd gotten some good news.

"So if you want to have any influence on these Templars," Robert said, "You'll need manpower, and land. Now these 12 men of yours are a start, but you need an army."

"Ezio's rounding up the Assassins near Ironwrath, your Grace," said Altair.

"That's all well and good," replied Robert, "But you'll need more than that. You'll need to recruit from somewhere."

"I'm sure there are places," Altair said, "This place has proven to be far bigger than the Holy Land. There must be places to find potential Assassins."

"There are plenty," Robert admitted, "But you need capable fighters. You got me intrigued to know more when you showed me that artifact, and I've enough brains to guess that you're up against something big."

"You guessed right."

"Then you need the best fighters you can have," Robert told him, "The best weapons, the best armor, and enough land to hold it all. What you need is power. And where do you think power comes from here?"

"Money," Altair said with sigh.

"Exactly," Robert agreed, "If the people found out how much debt the Realm was in, there would be riots. You need people to have a reason to fight for you, and with gold, the sellswords will flock like sheep."

"And as for land?" asked Altair.

"Well you could certainly build a fortress of your own," Robert suggested, "But that would take too long. There are plenty of ruined strongholds in the Seven Kingdoms. Harrenhal might be ideal, if you can get the supplies and men to restore and hold it fully. Or maybe Dragonstone, if I can persuade my brother Stannis to give it up."

"Your Grace," Altair said, "May I ask why you have so readily given aid to us? We are strangers, after all."

Robert stopped walking, and Altair stopped with him.

"Because," he said, turning around, "robbing us of our ability to think is hardly different from slitting our throats as we sleep."


	6. Chapter 6

The breeze did nothing to cool Edward down as he and Adewale climbed up the hill. The surface was rocky and unstable, and Edward soon got used to dangling in the ai until Adewale could make his way back down and pull him up.

"You'd think," he said as his feet touched solid ground for a fifth time, "that being an Assassin would mean an end to this."

"It's better than having rigging snap on you, Captain," Adewale replied, "I know this from experience."

Edward knew it too, but not from experience. There had been two instances where Edward had witnessed a ship's rigging snapp while a man had been climbing it. Once, Edward had watched as a young privateer had fallen to his death. This had been before the war between England and Spain had ended. The second time, the rigging on the _Jackdaw_ had snapped just after Adewale had begun climbing. He'd made hardly any progress, so he walked away with a bruise on his arm after hitting the deck. Still, he always said that it "wasn't a fun experience."

Finally, they reached the top, and the sight left Edward breathless. The grass stretched on for what must have been miles. Beyond that were mountains, lakes, jungles and villages. Edward had now forgotten about the heat, mesmerized by the view.

It's incredible," he said.

"Look captain!" Adewale said, pointing, "To the east!"

Edward looked. In the grass, not far from the base of the hill, figures moved toward them, clumping together in one big group. As they reached the base of the hill, Edward began to make out faces. And apparently Adewale did too.

"Captain..." he said, "They're..."

They were the _Jackdaw's_ crew.

* * *

William and the Assassins made camp the day after leaving Ironrath. Ezio had travelled north to meet up with Tyrion and the Stark bastard, and travel with Tyrion from the Wall to King's Landing. The New Arrivals, as William had begun to call them, had disappeared from Masyaf at the same time he and Altair had, and were astonished at what William told them. They were (understandably) in utter disbelief that a piece of Eden had taken them to an entirely new world where winter could last a decade, and there was a solemn uncertainty when William informed them that the Templars were there too.

"This is why we have to find as many Assassins as we can," he told them, "We have to gain ground before they do."

* * *

By the end of the journey, Altair felt exhausted, restless, and filthy. So it was a relief when they finally, after months of travelling through harsh rain, swamps, and forests, to see the massive city of King's Landing, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, lying before him.

That is, until the smell hit him.

They rode through the narrow streets, while the people moved out of the way for them. For the first time, Altair saw how ugly Westeros could be. The people were thin, dirty and weak, with ragged clothes and wary, distrustful faces. What Altair couldn't understand was why this fazed him; after all, he had seen the same conditions in Jeursalem, in Acre, and in Damascus. Maybe it was because he was new to this world, and hadn't paused to realize that it, like his own world, had injustices and atrocities of it's own.

 _That's why we cannot stop fighting,_ thought Altair, _not until every man and woman in the world has a chance to live a decent life._

It was a fight Altair was once certain that he would not see finished. But he had somehow met two other Assassins who lived centuries apart. When something like that happens, can one really be certain of anything?

* * *

Arno's first impression of King's Landing was not a good one; the city stank of piss and shit, while the people starved and lived on the worst food imaginable. And then there was the Red Keep. He wondered how such a paradise could be surrounded by such suffering. For one thing, the entire palace seemed to be built on a cliff, so there was always an excellent breeze. The wonderful gardens which gave an incredible view of Blackwater Bay, the bright and colorful clothing worn by the lords and ladies of the city.

But there was still something sinister around King's Landing, something that couldn't really be seen, but _felt._ As if there were things happening here that one didn't see. Despite it's beauty, Arno would be glad when the time came to leave the city.

"Sir?" said a timid voice behind him. Arno turned around and saw a nervous servant boy, no more than 17 or so.

"Yes?"

"Lord Eddard Stark requests your presence in the Small Council chamber, sir," the boy said.

The boy led Arno through the castle until they came upon the great hall. Arno couldn't help but wander and admire the room. The tall windows allowed sunlight to shine on the the enormous columns covered with hunting tapestries. And at the end of the room, sitting upon a raised platform, was the strangest throne Arno had ever seen. As he approached, he saw that it was entirely steel, and made out of the blackened remains of at least a hundred swords. And it looked monstrously uncomfortable. Arno suddenly had a lot of sympathy for King Robert.

"Arno, in here!"

It was Altair, standing in a doorway to the side of the throne. Arno followed him in. Inside was Ned Stark seated at a long table, surrounded by a handful of other men.

"Ah," said one of them, a bald man with not a strand of facial hair, "You must be one of these Assassins I've heard so much about."

 _News travel fast,_ thought Arno.

"That's right," he said, "Lord-?"

"Varys," the bald man said, "Master of Spies."

Arno and Altair took the two empty seats while Ned made the introductions. There was Renly Baratheon, Robert's younger brother who gave Arno the feeling that he was looking at a younger and fitter King Robert. There was Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin, a thin man with graying hair and small, beady eyes. And there was Grand Maester Pycelle, an extraordinarily old man, going bald with a long white beard.

"We've heard a great deal about you from Lord Stark," Renly told the Assassins.

"Then you know of our struggle, Lord Renly?" replied Altair.

"I have," said Renly, nodding, "It's quite a lot to comeprehend, but I hear my brother vouches for you?"

"He does," said Arno, "Not the full history of our cause, but he knows what's at stake."

"But you'll need more than His Grace's support if you want your cause to survive," said Baelish, "You need men, gold, weapons and, most importantly, land."

"Robert and Altair have discussed this," Ned told him, "There are countless abandoned fortresses all over the Seven Kingdoms, plenty of which can accommodate an army."

"And then there's gold," Baelish added, "Unless these Templar ememies of yours become public knowledge, nobody's going to back you, and the Crown doesn't exactly have piles of gold to spare anymore."

"Regardless," Renly interrupted, "We have other matters to attend to."

"Shouldn't we wait for Robert?" Eddard asked.

"Winter may be coming," said Renly with the hint of a smile, "But I'm afraid the same cannot be said for my brother."

"His Grace has many cares," said Varys, "He entrusts some small matters to us, in the hope that we might lighten the load."

Pycelle handed Ned a rolled up note, and Renly continued, "My brother instructs us to stage a tournament in honor of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King."

"Hmm," said Baelish, "How much?"

"Forty-thousand gold dragons to the champion," Ned told him, reading the note with a frown, "Twenty-thousand to the runner-up, and twenty-thousand to the winning archer."

"Can the treasury bear such expense?" asked Pycelle.

"I'll have to borrow it," replied Lord Baelish, "The Lannisters will accommodate, I expect. We already owe Lord Tywin three million in gold, what's enough eighty-thousand?"

Ned looked astonished. "Are you telling me the Crown is three million in debt?!"

"I'm telling you the Crown is six million in debt," Baelish told him.

"Six million?!" exclaimed Arno.

"How could you let this happen?" Ned asked him.

"The Master of Coin finds the money, the King and the Hand spend it," said Baelish dully, as if the fact that the Crown was bankrupt was insignificant.

"I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm," said Ned darkly.

"Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice," said Pycelle, "But I fear his Grace doesn't always listen."

"Counting coppers, he calls it," said Renly, rubbing his forehead slightly.

"I'll speak to him tomorrow," Ned told the council, "This tournament is an extravagance we cannot afford."

"Agreed," said Altair, "This debt may not be a problem now, but it will eventually catch up to us."

"As you will," Baelish told Ned, "But still, we'd best make our plans."

 _Are you serious?_ thought Altair.

"There will be no plans," Ned said loudly, "until I speak to Robert!"

Varys gave him a look. Renly seemed to be suppressing a scowl. Ned sighed.

"Forgive me, my lords," he said, "I've had a long ride."

Baelish seemed unsatisfied with the apology, but Varys said, "You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. We serve at your pleasure."

* * *

"Six million!" Arno said as they walked through the castle, "Six million in debt!"

"Complaining won't help," Altair told him, but he was still furious, "The best we can hope for is that King Robert will listen to reason. We got through to him at Winterfell, so he's not beyond wise advice."

Altair found his new chambers, and Arno left him to his own devices. Altair settled at the desk by the window, letting the breeze cool him down.

 _Well, things could be worse,_ he thought. He felt tired, and sleep would have been a blessing, but he wanted to document the day's events while they were fresh on his mind.

He took out the leather-bound book that he had been writing in for years, and turned to a fresh page...


End file.
